


Choices

by geekBoots



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Bilbo, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekBoots/pseuds/geekBoots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the river when the Company is trapped beneath a bridge and facing being recaptured by the Elves or brutally murdered by the Orcs, Bilbo takes it upon himself to pull the lever and open the gate that is holding them there. Now all they have to do is take care of an ailing Hobbit on the last leg of their journey to the Lonely Mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leverage

**Author's Note:**

> -I'm so sorry i just like to beat up my favorite characters gahhhhh  
> -also wow I am terrible at coming up with titles  
> -critque VERY welcome! <3

Over the roar of the river, an elvish horn sounded. 

Thorin turned to look at the stone bridge that the barrels were swiftly approaching, and realized with horror that the elves standing upon it had spurred themselves into action. One elf cried something and the rest drew their swords and planted their feet firmly on the ground in response. The elf rushed up the stairs to a great lever and pushed it up. A mechanical clanking was heard.

The gates beneath the bridge were closing. 

They were trapped.

“ _No!_ ” roared Thorin. Bilbo watched as he threw himself at the gates in a futile effort to move them, but they would not budge. The barrels began piling up one after another, pinned behind the gate by the rushing water. Bilbo feared he would be crushed.

Just then, one of the guards cried out and fell forward, an orcish arrow jutting from his back. 

“Watch out!” cried Bofur sharply, as the elf's lifeless body toppled into the river, fortunately missing the barrels. 

An orc loomed up over the gate and roared at the company. 

And suddenly there was a whole horde of orcs swarming over the gate and battling the elvish guards. The elves were quickly overrun, and the orcs were upon the company. Chaos erupted.

One huge orc threw himself down onto Bofur's barrel, but overshot and flipped over, disappearing beneath the roiling waters.

Their leader snarled something in orcish. 

Another orc leaped down and landed in the water next to Nori and Bilbo, and drew back to deliver a killing blow to the dwarf.

Still clinging to Nori's barrel with the frozen fingers of his left hand, Bilbo automatically drew Sting with his right, instinctively shoving the blade through the orc's neck before it could land the blow. Warm, black blood spattered over him and he gagged. The orc began to slump forward and he wrenched his sword free, just as Thorin had taught him. The body of the orc fell into the water beside him and was dragged down and away by the current.

Bilbo realized that unless they got out of there immediately, they would all be killed.

He had to get that gate open.

He clambered up onto the stone, slipping slightly on his wet feet, but regained his balance just in time to parry a vicious swing by another orc—how many of the confounded things were there? He rolled under the orc's legs and stood, and drove Sting up under the orc's armor. His arms were jarred as he guessed he hit bone. The orc squealed piteously and sank to its knees. He pulled Sting clear of the corpse and ducked clear of a too-high chop. His opponent off-balance, Bilbo shoved him and the orc's head collided with the stone bridge in a sickening crunch.

He dashed up the stairs, tripping another opponent. He heard a sound like a shovel in mud and glanced behind him to see an orc fall—Fili had seen the orc sneaking up on the halfling and hurled a sword at the brute, skewering him.

Bilbo danced back to dodge a swing by an orc who loomed over him from a high place on the top of the gate, then stepped in and swung as hard as he could at the orc's unprotected chest. The sword lodged itself deep in the orc's chest and the hobbit heaved it free.

He took a step toward the lever. Bilbo staggered and fell against the parapet, letting out an anguished scream as an orcish arrow buried itself between his ribs, then fell to the cold stone of the bridge.

“Bilbo!”cried Kili, aghast.

The hobbit dragged himself upright and took a tentative step toward the lever. 

The pain of it was unbearable.

He had to open that gate.

Just a few more steps.

Was that _his_ blood pooling on the ground?

He just had to get to the confounded lever.

Had to. For the company.

For Thorin.

Bilbo jumped forward and grabbed onto the lever, pulling it down with his full weight, but he could feel the head of the arrow in his side more keenly than ever and when he turned to jump back down into the water to rejoin his dwarves, the ground swayed and he lost his balance. 

He was unconscious before he hit the water.


	2. Kinship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -uhhh I'm still sorry for beating the crap out of characters that I like  
> -that Khuzdul is from some site I found on the internet so let's pretend like that's a trustworthy source and just accept that translation, OK? yeah  
> -gahhh this chapter is short too. Sorry! )-:  
> -crits very welcome, as always! <3

He came to coughing and spluttering and experienced a brief moment of terror wherein he was not sure if he was choking on water or blood. This terror faded into mild worry when he realized that although he was still in the river, he was surrounded by the concerned faces of the company and not those of elves or orcs. 

Someone was holding him up under the arms and something was jabbing him painfully in the back. His right side was very cold.

He tried to reposition himself so that the...whatever it was in his back...didn't hurt hurt so much, but the movement set him curling against the sudden pain. 

He glanced down at his waistcoat and the black arrow protruding awkwardly from it. He whimpered.

Oin's voice floated across the water.

“It's alright, lad. We've got ya. We just need ta get you to shore and you'll be right as rain.” 

Bilbo mumbled something unintelligible.

Ori cupped a hand around his ear. “What was that, lad?”

“This is...my favorite waistcoat, you know,” Bilbo wheezed.

A voice behind him bubbled into strained laughter. “Mr. Boggins, I do believe that is the least of your current worries.”

“You're right,” gasped the hobbit, trying to smile despite his pain. “My shoulders ache terribly in this position.”

“Well, it's not much fun for me, either,” Kili prodded. “You aren't exactly light for such a small creature.” 

Despite the jovial intent, the concern in Kili's voice was evident. And the stress was written plainly on the faces of the rest of the company, too.

Bofur smiled at him. “We're almost there, Bilbo.”

\---

They clambered out of their barrels and onto the rocky shore, Dwalin carrying a sopping wet halfling in his arms.

Bilbo bit back a cry as they lowered him not-gently-enough to the cold ground.

Oin, having managed to secret his medical pouch with him through the elvish dungeons, set to work immediately while a few of the Dwarves tried to distract Bilbo with conversation.

Bilbo found that the more they tried to calm him, the more worried he became.

Oin worked quietly, cutting through Bilbo's bloodstained coat, waistcoat, and shirt. Purpled flesh was revealed underneath, the blood darkening and pooling under the hobbit's pale skin. 

Kili swallowed. “See, Mr. Boggins? It doesn't look so bad after all.”

Bofur nodded hastily in agreement. “I've seen many a dwarf pull through worse.”

They continued to talk about the grisly wounds they'd seen, but it made Bilbo feel ill and he turned his head away.

A heated conversation between Dwalin and Thorin soon overpowered Bofur's and Kili's reassurances.

“He shouldn't have gotten himself shot in the first place,” snapped Thorin. 

“If it hadn't been him, it would've been one of us. He risked his life for us. For you, too. Don't you dare take that lightly, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin growled, “He doesn't belong on this journey.”

Balin started in. “Don't you think that's a bit—”

“He should have stayed in his miserable hole where it was safe, not come prancing about in the Wild, only to get himself killed!”

Silence fell across the company.

Oin slammed down his shears on the ground next to Bilbo and stood, arms crossed over his chest and turned to Thorin, glaring daggers. “He's not dead and he's not going to die. Not while I'm caring for him.”

Bifur stood and crossed his arms in union with Oin.

Slowly, the rest of the company rose and faced Thorin. Realizing what he'd said, Thorin's eyes widened and he turned away in shame.

Bilbo squeezed his eyes closed. Hot tears spilled out despite his efforts to keep them in. 

Footsteps approached. He didn't want to open his eyes.

“Mr. Baggins...”

Bilbo opened his eyes in surprise. Thorin sat crouched before him. The dwarf lowered his head and sighed deeply.

 _“Demup telek menu,”_ Thorin said solemnly. “Honor acts through you. You risked your life to save us all. I will not forget that. I spoke in haste and my words were false. I hope that you can forgive me, Master Burglar.”

Bilbo smiled weakly, and croaked, “Just so long as it doesn't happen again.”

Thorin laughed gently and squeezed Bilbo's hand.

Oin cut in. “Now to the business at hand. Let's get this arrow out.”

Bilbo's stomach dropped.

Thorin glanced at Oin. “Shall I..?”

Oin sighed and gestured an “all yours” motion.

Thorin leveled his gaze to meet with Bilbo's. “I won't lie to you, Mr. Baggins. This will hurt more than anything has before.”

Oin subtly beckoned Dwalin and Bifur over. They seated themselves next to Bilbo's limbs and firmly took ahold of them to prevent the hobbit from thrashing about and causing himself further injury.

Bilbo found himself wildly babbling, begging them not to draw the arrow from his side.

“No, no, can't you just leave it in? Please don't—” 

Thorin began to pull. 

Bilbo thought he would die right there from the pain of it.

Someone was shrieking.

_Oh, it's me._

Thorin's face loomed over him, full of fear. He was saying something, but Bilbo couldn't make it out. 

Then came that wretched, blessed blackness again.


	3. Hardship

Thorin gazed down at the still form of their Burglar, who remained deeply unconscious. They had covered him in spare layers of still-damp clothing, and the hobbit had seemed to disappear under the mountain of tunics.

It would have been comedic but for his terrible stillness and greyish pallor.

"Now what?" asked Thorin.

Oin pursed his lips.

"Let him rest. The lad's lost a lot of blood and all we can do is wait. And hope."

Thorin's brow furrowed and he looked toward the outline of the mountain looming in the distance, but he said nothing. 

He clenched his fists, and noticed suddenly that his fingers were sticky; still wet with Bilbo's blood. He stooped and pulled up some moss and began furiously scrubbing the blood from his hands. 

He felt sick at the prospect of being covered in the blood of a friend, especially one whose blood had been spilled to save him and his kin.

Disgusted, he threw the moss into the river and watched as it slowly sank into the murky darkness.

\---

Not daring to light a fire, they simply waited.

For too long a time, there was near silence in the makeshift camp, punctuated only by occasional terse conversation and the burbling of the river.

Then there was a soft moan. 

Eyelids fluttering, Bilbo tried to sit up. 

For a moment, there was only the ice-cold pain of his wound and the itchy feeling of bandages wrapped around his middle.

And then his body was wracked with deep hacking coughs, tears streaming uncontrollably from his eyes. Oin was behind him, thumping him on the back and then supporting him when he finally sagged backward, gasping for air.

The company crowded around him, and burst into loud heartfelt greetings.

"Welcome back, Master Baggins!"

"I thought we'd lost our Burglar."

Bofur reached out to put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder and Oin promptly slapped it away.

Bilbo spoke in a hoarse whisper, "Hullo, everyone. I'm parched. Can I have some water please?"

Bifur snorted. "'Inzash ushulkai izrêm mê udu id-'ân?" he asked, making swimming motions. 

There was some chuckling at that, and even Bilbo managed a pained smile after Bifur translated for him. Several dwarves rushed to the river and brought back small mouthfuls of water in cupped hands.

Oin waited until the hobbit seemed to have recovered somewhat from the strain of sitting up again to drink the water then calculatingly asked, "How are ye feeling?"

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "Like I've been shot."

Oin rolled his eyes. 

Bilbo looked at him seriously then. "My side is... cold. Like ice, yet it burns. I hate to think of having to walk about like this."

"You won't have to, Master Burglar," Dwalin cut in. "I'll carry you."

"Aye, Bilbo! We'll carry you to all the way to the mountain if we have to." Bofur winked.

"Mênu sarj," added Bifur. "Ammâ mahibliki." He flexed his arms to make a point of it.

"Right then! Who wants to take first shift carrying our hobbit?" asked Bofur, rubbing his hands together.

"I will."

The dwarves parted and Thorin approached the foot of Bilbo's makeshift bed. Kneeling down, he said in a low voice, "I owe you that much."

Bilbo said dryly, "Just don't drop me, alright?"

The areas around Thorin's eyes crinkled and a slight smile graced his face.

Bilbo pushed himself up off the ground on his elbows, wincing. He felt strong arms wrap themselves around him and his face was buried in the soft fur of Thorin's mantle. Bilbo sucked in a sharp breath as sudden pain shot through him and his hand flew to his bandaged side.

Thorin took an experimental step, and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut.

"Are you alright, laddie?" asked Balin with evident concern.

"Just fine," gasped the hobbit.

"We have to keep moving," grunted Thorin. "Come on."

They trudged slowly on along the rocky shore of the river, muted conversation occasionally ringing over the merry burble of the river.

Suddenly Fili clapped a hand to his head and he and his brother jogged up to join Bilbo and Thorin at the head of the line. 

Fili exclaimed, "Bilbo, I almost forgot to tell you! We brought something along for you."

Grinning, he nudged Kili, who produced from behind his back--Sting!

Bilbo nodded and attempted to smile, still trying not to cry out from the incessant pain of being carried.

A few moments after each step, the worst of the pain would fade, but Thorin kept plodding on and the icy needles in his side would return anew with every step.

_Dwarves are not the most graceful beings in Middle-Earth,_ thought Bilbo sardonically.

"Would you boys mind carrying Sting--my sword for a while? I don't think Thorin would appreciate the extra weight," wheezed Bilbo between each jarring movement caused by Thorin's steps. 

"Of course, Mr. Boggins. We wouldn't want--"

Kili had stopped dead in his tracks. He stared forward with wide eyes and slowly raised his arms in a clear gesture of non-aggression. Confused, Bilbo twisted his head to look to the front.

A man with a bow stood before them with an arrow nocked and aimed straight at Thorin's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of Bifur's speech:  
> -"'Inzash ushulkai izrêm mê udu id-'ân?" [Not-so too-wet swimming you from the river?]-->You're not too wet from swimming in the river?  
> \- "Mênu sarj. Ammâ mahibliki." [You (are) light. We (are) strong-arms."] -->You're light. We are strong of arm.  
> Special thanks to The Dwarrow Scholar for posting their Neo-Khuzdul dictionary in full so nerds like me could mangle translations into Dwarvish for their crappy fanfics. <3
> 
> Also, if you guys see grammar/spelling/punctuation errors or that kind of thing, feel free to point that stuff out! I can't improve my writing if I'm unaware of my mistakes. Also, I super appreciate all the comments and kudos this is getting. You guys are awesome!


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short. I've been going through a really rough time lately, but felt like I should at least try to work on this. Consider this chapter more of an interlude.

Thorin handed the Hobbit to Kili, and turned to face the interloper.

Suddenly the Man twisted his torso and loosed an arrow which flew straight into the rock that Fili had quietly palmed and raised to hurl at the Man. The arrow sent the stone skittering onto the ground before it could be thrown.

"Do it again and you're dead."

There was a soft moan from the bundle of rags, and Kili swiftly set it down, beckoning Oin over. The medic pushed his way through the throng of dwarves and sat next to Kili and the Hobbit. He pulled out his kit, and began tending to Bilbo with what little he had. Thorin, too, knelt next to the Burglar, holding a hand above his mouth and nose to detect the too-shallow breaths. Satisfied, he stood and turned his attention toward the bowman.

Balin, arms raised, spoke up. 

"Excuse me, but you're from Lake-Town if I'm not mistaken. That barge over there..." he glanced in the direction of a small boat downstream of the party. "... It wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"

The bowman narrowed his eyes.

"What makes you think I would help you?"

"How dare you," growled Thorin. "How dare you threaten us as we try to get an injured member of this party to safety? Do you not know who I am?"

Fists clenched, Thorin took a menacing step forward. The bowman tensed. Sensing trouble, Balin pushed swiftly in front of him and spoke. 

"Ah, what my companion here means to say is merely that we would appreciate some understanding in this difficult time. We were attacked by a party of orcs."

"Orcs," repeated the Man, disbelieving. He looked untrustingly between Balin and Thorin, but his gaze finally fell onto the limp form on te ground. 

"You would bring a child on a journey through such dangerous lands?" he asked, incredulous.

"He's not a child. He's a Hobbit of the Shire. And he needs food and proper rest or he will soon be a corpse!" snapped Oin.

The Man tightened his grip on his bow, his brow furrowed, then finally relaxed the bow and lowered it. 

"There are those who would give you aid in Lake-Town, but judging by the state of those--" he nodded at the barrels bobbing down the now-placid river, "you did not part on friendly terms with the Elven-King. Lake-Town depends on trade with his folk. I have already made an enemy of the Master of Lake-Town and I cannot afford to antagonize him further."

Balin nodded. "And what price would persuade you otherwise?"

The bowman pursed his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special, loving thanks to all who have favorited, bookmarked, kudos'd reviewed, commented on, or even just read this. You guys are fantastic and I really appreciate the outpouring of support from everybody. <333


End file.
